A Broken Hallelujah
by My Silver Dreamer
Summary: The war is over, but it's destruction has torn the lives of two individuals. A chance meeting starts them on a relationship that could change their lives forever.
1. Chapter 1

"_Now I've heard there was a secret chord._" He felt his body go numb. His throat was dry. Of all the people to run into, after so long, why did it have to be her? "_That David played, and it pleased the Lord._" She looked up from her guitar, her honey brown hair falling away from her eyes. Draco knew the moment she saw him at the back of the pub. His years of musical training on the cello made him aware of her slight pause in the chord change. For a moment, fear crossed her warm, brown eyes, before she firmly closed them, making herself relax. "_But you don't really care for music, do you?_"

Her voice was a surprisingly sultry mezzo, catching him off guard. He had often wondered what she would sound like, after hearing her hum to herself sometimes in the library when they were kids. He took another drink of Fireball whiskey, reveling in the burn. It didn't quite match fire whiskey, but the cinnamon taste brought it close. "_It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift. The baffled king composing Hallelujah_." She seemed determined not to look at him again.

The war hadn't went well for either side. Sure, Harry had defeated Voldemort. But along with all the deaths leading up to that, many had lost their lives in the rebuilding of the wizarding world. Draco raised his mug to all of them, both sides. While his father had only pretended to see the error of his ways to escape prison, Draco was honestly through with the dark wizard lot. The war had changed him. Landed him here, in a muggle pub in London, trying to drink his problems away. _Wrong sodding place!_

"_Hallelujah._" The small crowd clapped as Hermione strummed her last chord. She nodded her head and walked off to the back room they had set up for performers. Setting down her most prized possession, she walked over to the small refrigerator and poured a shot of Fireball. It burned going down but seemed to warm that empty hole in her chest.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. The bags under her eyes were getting worse. _I will not cry. I will not cry! I refuse!_ She downed another shot and pulled on her jacket. Grabbing her backpack and putting her guitar in its case, she took the back door from the pub, hoping not to run into him.

Draco saw her come out the back door. He knew her well enough to know she didn't want to see him, but he wanted to talk to her. But when he saw the curve of her shoulders and the hang of her head, he kept to the shadows. She passed right by him, looking both ways once she reached the main road. He felt the need to follow her, though he didn't know why. Maybe out of fear of never seeing her again.

After twenty minutes of following Hermione, he saw her walk up to the door of a small two story house. Draco was slightly shocked that she had a house in the muggle world, since he had last heard that Ron and her had a place not far from the Weasley home. A light came on in the kitchen on the side of the house, so he moved to the shadows so he could see in. He could see her moving around as if she didn't know what to do with herself. Even though he knew she couldn't see him, he felt bad for spying on her private life.

Hermione tried to think of something to do besides turning in for the night. She sat at the table, nursing another drink. Her eyes fell on a picture stuck to the refrigerator. It was of her parents on a trip to Paris before she was born. Her mom was waving to the camera while her dad snuck a kiss on her cheek. She wanted to smile at the love that she felt between them, but she could only cry. She jumped up from her seat and ripped it down, stuffing it in a drawer. When she had moved back here after they died she had tried to hide all of their pictures. _Guess I missed one..._

Draco didn't quite understand, but he figured he should head home. He walked a block away and Apparated home. Malfoy Manor was even more silent since his father disappeared. He had managed to slip through the ministry's fingers when the war ended, but Lucius Malfoy would never change. His mom couldn't stand to be in the house, so she packed her bags and left. Draco hadn't heard from her in months.

Rosey the house elf ran up to him, "Anything the master would like tonight?" Her ears had little red bows on them. Unlike the house elves his father kept, Draco was hell-bent on change, and so only kept freed elves. Due to the Malfoy reputation, the number was very few, but ones such as Rosey were fierce in their loyalty. Draco never punished her and even gave her presents at holidays, and in return she made sure that the other elves stayed on staff.

"No thank you, Rosey. I'm just going to turn in." He turned to walk up the staircase to his quarters, but stopped. "Any mail today?"

"No, sir." She hung her head and made her way to the kitchen. Draco told himself every morning not to hope, and every night he cursed himself for doing so.

He finally made it to his room and got ready for bed. When he closed his eyes he steeled himself for the nightmares that plagued him each night. Instead, he saw warm, brown eyes and honey hair. The sultry sound of a sad song. It warmed his icy excuse of a heart, if only a little, and gave him the first easy night he had had in the two years since the war.


	2. Chapter 2

"No, Molly. I haven't heard from Ron in weeks." Hermione struggled to keep the sobs out of her voice. Molly Weasley already felt bad enough for her son's actions, she didn't want to make her feel even worse. "Thank you for calling, though. I'll see you in a few days." Despite everything that had happened, the Weasley's were the only family she had.

Hanging the phone up, she went into the small room that her parents had set up as a dual office. Hermione had started packing away their dentistry books and files, seeing no reason to keep them out. She was so busy concentrating on organizing everything perfectly that she didn't hear the distinct pop that came from the back yard. She didn't look up from her work until there was a loud pounding sound on the back door.

Trusting the enchantments she had placed on the house long ago, Hermione didn't bother to fetch her wand. When she opened the door, a very drunk Ron stared back at her with hate in his eyes. "What are you doing here, Ron?"

He rocked back and forth, threatening to fall over. She could see his eyes trying to focus on her through the haze. "Whaddam I doin' 'ere? Whadder you doin' 'ere?" He pointed at her with a silver flask that smelled distinctly of fire-whiskey.

"Give me the flask, Ron. You're done." She stepped closer to grab it from him and was backhanded across the kitchen. Once her wits came back to her, she recognized the taste of blood in her mouth. _Not again..._

"Where is he!" Ron staggered through the kitchen and into the small living room pointing his wand into every corner that a person could hide in. "I know he's here!"

Hermione was more confused, her head throbbing from its impact with the tile floor. Ron had become a bit of a drunk since the war. Harry and Ginny had renewed their relationship, spending less time with Ron and Hermione. With each new job he took as an Auror, he saw worse and worse parts of the post-war world. When Hermione's parents had died in a car crash, after everything she had went through to keep them safe from Voldemort, Ron crossed the line. In one of his drunken stupors, he had told her that they were only "stupid Muggles, so who cares anyway."

That night she left him and moved to her parents.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" She leaned on the archway from the kitchen to the living room, watching him dart in and out of the office and the laundry room. He even spent time in the garage that Hermione never ventured into. All the while he seemed to be in a crazy, drunken rage.

"KRUM! That's who the bloody hell I'm talking about!" Hermione couldn't believe what he was saying. He made for the staircase leading to the bedrooms. "I know he's here, you cheating whore!"

She was frozen to the spot. He had ranted before, but never like this. For the first time since he walked through the door, she was truly afraid. She heard glass shatter and a string of curses. _Mom's vase_. She saw red.

Running up the stairs two at a time, she rounded the corner to their bedroom where the vase lay broken by the bed. A part of her heart died. Ron came out of the master bathroom and hit her with a spell. Wandless, she flew out the door, through the hall and into the opposite wall above her own bed. She heard the crack of a rib.

Ron stalked to the bed where she lay gasping for breath. Her head fell to the side and she could see her wand laying on her dresser across the room. She needed to reach it. _Think. Think of something. Anything!_

"Ron, no one is here. I haven't been seeing anyone." She tried to sound as calm as possible. Maybe if she could distract him into letting her near the dresser she could stop him.

She stumbled to her feet and moved to the bathroom door, away from the dresser. Like she was hoping, Ron hadn't noticed her wand and thought she was escaping to the safety of the bathroom. He shot another spell at her and Hermione was pulled backwards, landing at the foot of the dresser. Unfortunately for Ron, the spell threw him off balance and he stumbled, dropping his flask.

While he was drunkenly searching for it, Hermione grabbed her wand and tried to think of a solution. Her mind was still fuzzy from the falls and she couldn't think of what to do. Yes, Ron had no qualms with harming her, especially when drunk. And she had never seen him this drunk. She had nowhere to go. Maybe it was the possible concussion, or the possible sight of Draco across the bar room, but Hermione's mind went to the day she was captured and tortured by Bellatrix.

She heard Ron shout in triumph when he finally grabbed the flask from under the bed. He stood up and began to utter another spell. In an instant Hermione had disapparated. She landed on a cold stone floor. The room was silent and the floor cool against her bruised skin. Before she could even think of calling for help she drifted into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione woke to the gentle sound of wind blowing through the trees. She could smell fresh lilacs and lavender. _I must be dreaming_. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. A sharp pain in her ribs pulled her back to reality with a sharp cry. She lay back down and tried to get a sense of her surroundings.

She could feel the silk sheets around her, a stunning shade of purple, almost royal looking. The canopy above the king-size bed was the same shade, as well as the curtains draped in front of the fifteen foot windows and doors leading to, what she assumed was, a balcony. She listened to the leaves rustling and almost dozed off again. She hadn't felt this calm in so long…

_Where am I?_ She needed answers. But a part of her didn't care right now. The lilacs and lavender were sitting in a vase next to the bed. All the furniture in the room was a deep cherry colored wood. Hermione didn't know much about art décor, but they were lovely pieces all the same.

She took a few deep breaths to brace herself for the pain and pushed herself up into a sitting position. It took a few more painful minutes to get the pillows situated just right, but she was finally able to see out the windows. She could almost make out a beautiful garden outside, surrounded by a dense forest.

Just as she was feeling almost relaxed there came a knock on the door. The sound was so loud compared to her peaceful quiet that she had to suppress a shout. A small house elf with little red bows on her ears poked her head in. "Pardon me, Miss, but Master asked me to bring you breakfast."

"Asked?" Hermione thought maybe the elf had misspoken, or that maybe she was suffering from a concussion after all. Surely a house elf's master would never ask, they would command.

As if the elf hadn't heard her, "If you would like I could come back in a short while, so that you have time to freshen up." She cast her eyes down, as if she was trying to save Hermione the embarrassment.

It wasn't until that moment that she actually looked at her apparel. No wonder she had felt like she was floating on a cloud! She was scantily clad in an emerald green sleeping gown. It had small straps around the shoulders that crossed in the back, and the bottom of the gown only fell to mid thigh, leaving little to the imagination. A matching robe was hanging on a hook on one of the corners of the bed. The gown was beautiful, but what worried her was how she came by it, and again, where she was.

She reached up to her jaw and rubbed the side that Ron had slapped her on. It throbbed in pain and felt swollen. It was bound to be black and blue if she had a mirror to see it in. Next was her rib. She had most definitely heard it crack last night, and was worried about what condition it was in now. Had whoever brought her here done anything to help her injuries?

The elf turned to leave. "Wait!" Hermione said, her rib hurting even more. "I…I don't think I can get up on my own." She felt weak and frustrated. She had fought for equal rights for elves and other creatures for years, but still felt guilty asking for their help. "Is there someone here who could help me to the bathroom? A woman, perhaps?"

As embarrassed as Hermione felt, the elf looked. Her face turned red, almost to the tips of her ears. "The only human in the manor is Master himself, I'm afraid. I will go fetch him. He'll know what to do." With that the elf exited.

Hermione leaned back into the down pillows, wanting to sink into their soft embrace. She hadn't realized until that moment how scared she was of meeting this mysterious man. Yes, she was curious. And grateful. But also frightened. What kind of man would take a woman from…_wherever I disapparated to_…and bring her to his home. With no one else there for her to turn to.

She could feel the tension beginning to knot in her back, right between her shoulder blades. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. _If he meant to hurt me, why would he save me?_ That did little to ease her mind, but she finally dozed of into a light sleep.

Right before she drifted off, she had one last, clear thought. _Where is my wand?_

He couldn't believe it. Of all the places she would appear, and unconscious none the less, it had to be at his manor. _What cruel twist of fate is this?_ If he believed in a god, Draco could swear he was mocking him. He didn't though. The only faith he ever had was in the darkness of reality. It had been bred into him. The world didn't care about him, so why should he care about it.

_But does it have to be that way?_ He wanted so desperately to believe that life could change. That he could be happy. He thought, maybe after the war, that he could meet someone. Settle down, raise a family. But the only women interested in him were after his money, whether they were prospective wives, only in love with the Malfoy name, or whores. At least the whores were honest.

He stood up from his desk and started pacing in front of the fireplace. It was too warm out for the fire to be going, but this had always been his favorite room in the manor. His father had a separate library for himself. This one his mother and he had shared. But mostly it was Draco's. Narcissa had a small section in the corner of romance novels, but that was it. She had no other need for a study, so mostly had come in here for some peace and quiet; time to talk with her son. How Draco missed those days.

No use crying over spilled milk. _Or blood…_ His mind flashed to last night. She had blood trickling from the corner of her bow-shaped mouth. A single line of crimson on her perfectly golden skin. Even though she was unconscious, Draco could tell she was in pain. Her jaw had already started to bruise and her shirt had bunched up around her side in her fall. There was a sick, sunken look to one of her lower right ribs. Draco knew that look too well.

"Rosey!" He knelt to lift her, trying to be gentle.

As he headed towards the staircase leading to the east wing, Rosey appeared. "Master?"

"Make up the guest bedroom in the east wing. The Lavender room, please. And hurry." He kept walking past her and heard her pop away. He would have done the same, since the walk was a long one, but he was afraid the disapparation might hurt Hermione further.

He tried to walk as quickly and gently as possible. Thank Merlin he had stayed in shape after Hogwarts. Quidditch had given him a strong enough physique and he was bound to keep it up. It was one of the few hobbies he had to pass the time.

As he finally came to the end of the wing Rosey had the door open for him. "The room is set up for Miss. Is there anything further that I can do?" Draco almost wanted to hug her. As much as his father tried to drill into his mind that house elves were just servants, Rosey had become more like family.

"No thank you. I'll take it from here." Draco crossed to the bed and gently lay Hermione down. When he finally heard the door shut behind him, he collapsed to his knees next to the bed. His mind began to race. What was he to do with her? What had happened? Why did she come here? But worst of all…_What will happen when she wakes up?_

**Please review! I'm just a beginner and comments are welcome. I've tried a few other stories before but this one really has it's claws in me. I'm hoping to continue writing it, permitted that I have the time. **


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